The Lost Writings of Dr John H Watson
by Savvy0712
Summary: For years, millions have read the stories of the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes. Almost every single mystery solved by Sherlock has been recorded and published by his colleague, Dr. John H. Watson. But what the world hasn't read, has only just been discovered. These are the lost and untold mysteries of Holmes... and it all begins with a man named Thomas Gregory.
1. Chapter 1

**I have attempted to write this fanfiction in the format of the original Sherlock Holmes books and stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sadly, I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, or the wonderful Mrs. Hudson. The credit for them goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do own Thomas Gregory, though! Please enjoy reading this little creation of mine and REVIEW! :)**

A knock sounded at the door.

I glanced over at my companion lounging in a leather arm chair, deep in thought. He made no movement nor sign of hearing the knock. I stood up, hoping that he would notice and wonder what caused me to rise from my dinner. Much to my frustration, he remained silent and motionless.

Once again, a knock sounded at the door, though louder and harsher than before.

Knowing that my companion would not budge from his seat, and also knowing that our landlady, was ill and therefore not able to answer doors, I walked over to the door and opened it. There stood a young man approximately one and twenty years of age. He had the appearance of one frightened and unsure of what he was doing. His drooping eyelids and the dark circles underneath his tired blue eyes gave away the fact that he had not slept well the night before or possibly the last few nights. He gaped at me with an imploring gaze as he spoke in a hopeful voice,

"Am I addressing Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

"May I inquire of who you may be, young man?" I asked him.

"Gregory. Thomas Gregory." He answered. "I am need of Mr. Holmes services with a crucial matter that cannot wait."

His decided tone and pathetic demeanor persuaded me to attempt to waken my companion from his stupor.

"Wait here. I will be back in a moment." I told Thomas Gregory as I fully opened the door and led the young man inside the parlor.

I walked into the sitting room, where my flatmate sat before the roaring fireplace. His stare was vacant, his legs crossed, as he leaned back in his armchair lost in thought.

I cleared my throat loudly, receiving no response.

"Holmes." I spoke to the motionless figure in a resonant tone.

He turned his head and stared at me for a moment and then his eyes brightened.

"My dear Watson, what brings you to Baker Street on this cold, desolate evening?"

"I have been here for two days." I told him, not caring to add that I had been with my elderly parents in Bath for five days and had just returned two days ago to seeing him in an apathetic daze.

His brow knit in confusion.

"Honestly?" He asked me in surprise.

I nodded.

"Well," He began stretching his arms as he moved his head from side to side to exercise his stiff neck. "I suppose I have been thinking for far too long. You know what happens when I am bored, Watson. I need some intriguing case to work on or I shall go mad!"

He rose from his seat in exertion.

"Yes, I know what happens. "I muttered quietly. "You lose yourself in thoughts and memories for days until something happens to rouse you."

Holmes' dark eyebrows rose and a smirk formed on his mouth.

"You know me far too well, Doctor."

His deep, comical laugh caught me off guard.

"So, you need a new case, do you?" I asked him, watching his reaction.

He looked at me as if I were an imbecile.

"Well, of course I do!" He bellowed. "I have just said so, only a few moments ago."

He looked at me as if attempting to read my thoughts. "Are you well, Watson?"

"Quite well." I assured him. "Actually, I do believe that I have the answer to your incessant boredom."

"How so?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

"Our answer has been waiting in the parlor for several minutes, because of your slow recovery from your 'trance'." I replied.

Instantly, Holmes' entire demeanor brightened and he was himself once more.

He straightened his suit jacket and glanced at me in excitement.

"Well, what are we waiting for, Watson? The game's afoot!"

He turned and strode out of the room as I followed, relieved that my friend was recovered for the present.


	2. Chapter 2

**Once again, I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Dr. John Watson. The credit all goes to the brilliant Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Oh, and something I forgot to mention in the first chapter: this fanfiction takes place roughly in between the Hound of the Baskervilles and The Valley of Fear.**

Thomas Gregory seemed to be gazing at the intricacy of the elaborate wooden handle of my umbrella, at the time Holmes and I entered the parlor. He spun around once he heard our footsteps.

I took the liberty to make introductions directly.

"Holmes, this is Thomas Gregory. He is in need of your services promptly and has asked to speak with you."

Holmes nodded in acknowledgement as he studied our visitor, from head to toe.

I spoke once more.

"Mr. Gregory, allow me to introduce Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Mr. Gregory held out a small, frail hand to Holmes but was rejected, because my companion was far too busy scrutinizing the young man before him.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Holmes." Our visitor responded politely.

Holmes' head suddenly rose up from observing the mud on Mr. Gregory's shoes as he replied,

"No. You are not pleased to meet me, I am sorry to say. You are cross because I did not shake your hand and you think that I am a rude, distasteful, mannerless man that cannot aid you in any way."

The detective knew that he was correct in his assumption by the blushing face and downcast look of our young visitor.

Holmes cleared his throat.

"Well, now that we have that out of our way, we can proceed to business."

He abruptly glanced over at me as if realizing for the first time that I was standing next to him, and then his eyes flitted back to Mr. Gregory.

"My apologies, Mr. Gregory, for I have failed to introduce my colleague and most beloved friend, Dr. John Watson. You may say whatever you have the need to say as comfortably before Dr. Watson, as around myself. Is that understood?"

The young man nodded vigorously in reply.

"Good." Holmes replied. "Now let us make our way to the sitting room, shall we?"

He nodded as a signal to me to lead both men to the appointed room and Holmes securely shut the door behind us.

The detective directly sat in the armchair nearest to the fireplace, the very armchair that I had roused him from earlier, while I pulled up a wooden chair from a table a few feet away, and Mr. Gregory chose the small double seated sofa, facing Holmes and myself.

"Now," Holmes said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his legs, and lighting his pipe, "Let us begin. Mr. Gregory, why are you in need of my services?"

Thomas Gregory became very wide-eyed and pale.

"I am here, sir, for the same reason many others consult you. My brother and I are in danger of our lives."

Holmes inhaled from his pipe and blew out a wisp of hazy smoke.

"Ah." He smiled, making him appear very comical. "Those types of cases are always the most exhilarating. There is always a deadline with life threatening circumstances and I always work exceedingly stronger with a deadline. The adrenaline urges me forward at a speed much quicker than in a non- life threatening situation. Tell me everything from the very beginning, Mr. Gregory. Do not leave out even the most seemingly unimportant details. Your life may depend upon it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here is the next chapter. The plot is beginning to unravel now. :) PLEASE REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**

I leaned back in the hard wooden chair and eagerly waited for the mysterious Thomas Gregory to begin his narration.

Mr. Gregory leaned forward and rocked himself back and forth as if extremely nervous. He began in a shaking voice,

"Well, Mr. Holmes… and Dr. Watson," He added quickly, catching my eye before resuming, "There is not much to tell, but what I will attempt to carefully divulge every fact."

Holmes rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Can you please get to the point, Mr. Gregory?"

Our visitor cleared his throat and took a deep breath before continuing,

"It began only a fortnight ago." He mysteriously stated, moving his gaze downwards towards the floor, as if in a trance.

There was a significant pause in the young man's narration much to Holmes' frustration.

"What began a fortnight ago?" The detective prodded, impatiently.

Mr. Gregory's head snapped back up and he fixed his eyes on Holmes as if suddenly remembering what he was supposed to be doing.

"The first message appeared on my bedroom window."

"What sort of message?" Holmes inquired.

"A cipher, I suppose, though not one I nor my brother have ever seen or heard of before." Mr. Gregory answered.

"Did you copy the message down?" My companion asked the young man.

Our visitor nodded his head.

"Of course." He reached into his left pants pocket. "I have it right here."

Mr. Gregory rose from the sofa and walked over to Holmes, before handing the detective a small slip of paper. Holmes glanced at the paper for a moment and then looked up.

"Were there any other messages after this one?"

"Yes. There were."

"How many more?" Holmes questioned.

"Five." Mr. Gregory answered. "I have copied down every single message. The first was found on the outside ledge of my bedroom window written in white chalk. My elder brother, Edward and his wife, Catherine, whom I live with in our deceased father's estate, Haddingfield Park in Gloucester, both discovered the second message on the left side of our sundial out in our garden. It was most likely written with the same white chalk as the first. The third, a maid found, scrawled with what seems to have been black ink, on the door leading to the servants' quarters. Edward happened upon the fourth, written with candle wax on the front walkway leading to our home. Just this morning, I discovered the fifth message, inscribed across the top of our door… in blood. Underneath the cipher was a message in regular English that read, 'Thirteen days.'"

Holmes was deep in thought when Mr. Gregory ended his story and inhaled deeply from his pipe before exhaling a ring of grey smoke in the air. The blazing fire crackled as we sat in silence and I subtly jotted down a few notes. Our visitor anxiously awaited Holmes' response to his puzzling account.

A few moments later, Holmes spoke,

"When were the messages first noticed?"

"Each message was found every day for the last five days, including today." The young man answered as he returned to his seat, sitting back down in an uncomfortable fashion, crossing and uncrossing his legs, before leaning forward nervously.

"What do you think it all means, Mr. Holmes?"

My companion, who had been observing the first message for the past few minutes, at last looked up from the paper.

"Where are your copies of the other four, Mr. Gregory?"

Thomas Gregory reached in the same pocket the first paper had come from and took from it, four scraps of paper.

"Here they are, sir."

I left my seat and walked over to Mr. Gregory, retrieving the papers from him and delivering them to Holmes. I stood silently next to my friend as he carefully perused them, and read them over his shoulder.

Holmes finished scanning the messages and set them down in his lap.

"I am assuming I may borrow these for my investigation, Mr. Gregory?"

"You may, sir, most assuredly! Am I correct in believing that the 'Thirteen days' message is a death threat, Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes paused before replying, "With a case, like this, Mr. Gregory, anything is possible."

He nodded to me, signaling that the interview has come to a close and that I must lead our visitor out. I stood up as Holmes spoke,

"I will begin working directly and will be sure to inform of any significant progress. If any further of these messages or any messages at all, are found, notify me immediately as they might help with solving your case. Take extreme caution with anything you do, as we do not know what or who exactly you and your brother are dealing with."

Our visitor abandoned his seat on the sofa and walked over to Holmes.

"I certainly will, sir. I am very grateful for your help."

He extended a hand to Holmes for the second time that evening and to my utter astonishment, my companion shook the young man's hand.

"How much do I owe you for your services, Mr. Holmes?" Mr. Gregory asked. "I can pay, this very moment, if you desire me to do so."

Holmes stopped him before saying, "I do not desire any pay at all, my dear sir. My profession, itself, is pay enough for me."

"Alright then." Our visitor said, looking slightly relieved.

Holmes turned to me in his seat.

"Dr. Watson, would you be so kind as to lead Mr. Gregory out?"

I nodded in response and motioned for the young man to follow me, exiting the room leaving the detective in deep thought, the messages lying haphazardly in his lap.

**REVIEW! :) The contents of the cipher messages will be revealed in chapter 4 and you will also get to read Holmes' and Watsons' deductions concerning Mr. Gregory. Don't forget to review, dear readers! 3**

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